


Sudden Changes

by Ailette



Series: Changes [1]
Category: Sexy Zones
Genre: B.I.Shadow - Freeform, Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Kento noticed that maybe, he was falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

How had this mess begun? Kento wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened. Granted, it was kind of hard to remember with his head buzzing and tears flowing freely, but even when his brain was still in working order he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment.

Only maybe, he actually could.

***

He was running down the corridor, cursing his lack of shoes as he went. Winter shoots were officially over, but just because they now had to pose in wet jeans and white shirts in the nicely heated studio didn’t mean it was warm enough to run around barefoot anywhere else. He should have just worn his shoes to the set.

Teeth chattering, he finally reached the door to the studio and slipped in quietly, hoping not to disturb whoever’s turn it was right now. It was silly anyway that he’d had to get back to the make-up room to get sprayed wet. He was perfectly capable of making his bangs look sexy without a stylist’s help. Looking around, he spotted Yugo and Fuma chatting and jogged over to join them, reaching them just as Yugo waved good-bye.

“Should I be offended?” he asked jokingly as the older boy made his way out.

“Probably,” was all Fuma managed as an answer around a yawn.

Kento chuckled as he absently looked around. Seemed like the second part of today’s shoot would be close-ups with no probs involved. “Didn’t get enough sleep?”

He felt an arm loop around his shoulders and a second later he had to re-adjust his stance to not collapse under Fuma leaning half his weight onto him at once.

“Nooo,” he whined.

Kento was about to shrug the other boy off as he turned – and stopped. And _stared_. Fuma’s clothes were arranged in the same way as his – which meant wet, clinging to his skin and practically see-through. He knew of course that Fuma worked out regularly nowadays, but he swore that before winter, those arms hadn’t looked anywhere near as impressive as they did now. He could see muscles contracting as Fuma moved his arm to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes.

Eyes that were only half open, lips pouting a little more than usual (or maybe just accentuated by the gloss) and hair falling into his face in wet strands.

For lack of a better description, Fuma looked like something out of a wet dream. Literally.

It was only when Fuma’s eyebrows drew together in concern and he asked, “You okay?” that Kento finally snapped out of it. Well. Until the photographer called and Fuma straightened up and he realised with a start that he actually had to look up at the younger boy now. When did _that_ happen?

If he had hoped to gather himself during Fuma’s shoot, he had been sadly mistaken. With the photographer’s monitor right in front of the chairs he had collapsed on, he was subjected to the sight of an open-mouthed, hair ruffling and generally far too erotic Fuma for almost half an hour.

He couldn’t have averted his eyes if he’d wanted to. Instead he kept staring at that face, looking for signs of what exactly had changed. They saw each other several times every week, there was no chance for any drastic changes. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t noticed that he was smaller now than the other boy. Things like that could happen (he remembers Yuma complaining about all of them growing over his head not too long ago). But at what point did Fuma go from the cutest boy in the agency – they had surveys to testify to this – to that hot mess writhing on the floor no more than a few meters from him now? Sure, he had changed a little when he’d cut his hair, but still nothing drastic. The lips were still the same, just their effect differed. Finally, the penny dropped. The cheeks! Fuma’s adorable chubby cheeks had all but vanished, the baby fat gone completely.

But while that was at least an explanation for the change in looks, it definitely didn’t explain why Kento had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable for the last half hour or so.

He was still staring at the monitor with something like horror in his eyes when the younger boy came up behind him again.

“Wanna talk now or-”

“I’m fine,” he said, too quickly and stiffly, making Fuma frown. But luckily, the other didn’t press it and just shrugged his shoulders, clapping him on the back by way of saying good-bye.

“You know how to reach me if that changes. See you Wednesday.”

“Right,” Kento said and a few minutes later, when he could be reasonably sure that no one was paying attention to him anymore, excused himself to the bathroom. There had been enough changes already.

***

Thankfully, the day after that he had neither school nor work, so beside his mother, no one even raised an eyebrow when he decided to spend the whole day curled in on himself under the blanket.

He did _so_ not have a need for a crush right now. Any kind of crush, really, but especially not on his group mate and close friend. Until yesterday he wouldn’t even have said that Fuma was his type, for heaven’s sake. Yes, he was great and a little weird in just the right way and kind and sometimes a tiny bit childish when he got too hyped up about things. Especially if there was an audience involved. He was also easy to get close to, someone who didn’t see the use in lying to you when he could just as well blurt out a truth and get away with it. He was protective of his friends and once he set his mind to something, he would see it through and...

Alright. Maybe he was sort of Kento’s type. But, physically, he never had been until now. He wouldn’t say that there was one specific type he felt attracted to, but, guys like Sakurai-kun or maybe Maruyama-kun were... yeah.

And now Fuma.

He groaned into his pillow, willing his brain to come up with a solution for this mess. He didn’t want to crush on anybody, especially not someone he was forced to spend time with so frequently that he knew, just _knew_ , that he would eventually end up falling in love.

More than anything, he didn’t want to be heart-broken.

He tended not to think about love and relationships too much, it made life in Johnny’s much easier if you didn’t have to hide anything or worry about paparazzi following you around. Only, apparently, love had been right in front of him for a while and then suddenly punched him in the face when it got tired of not getting noticed. He would have preferred the slow realization and awakening of feelings (so what if he was a romantic at heart), really.

Kicking back the covers and sprawling out over the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling. A big revelation yesterday and a silent click today, he thought, digging out his mobile phone as it started ringing. His chest tightened when he saw the picture flashing up on the screen.

“You have creepy timing,” he told his phone and switched it to vibrate before tossing it back into his bag. “And I don’t know what I’ll say if I talk to you now.”

This was new. He would usually end up talking about serious things like this with Fuma. He never once recalled actually starting one of these conversations, but in the end they would always end up sitting somewhere, Fuma handing him a drink or just facing him with a softly encouraging smile as he waited for the other boy to crack and talk.

Kento smiled. Fuma was probably one of the most confusing people he had ever met. He looked too shy or uncaring at first glance, but would then suddenly throw his arm around your shoulder and not let go until he felt it absolutely necessary, or suddenly burst into laughter after sitting around passively for a good half hour. He forgot half his stuff whenever he went anywhere, but once it came to dance routines he memorized them to the point where Kento grew a little jealous. He gave off the impression of someone cool and stylish, only to team up with a bunch of tiny Juniors and challenge them to thumb-wrestling while still only half in costume.

Contradiction over contradiction. For just a moment, Kento allowed himself to wonder, what it might be like to go out with someon like that. Would he charge into a kiss or wait for his partner to make the first move? Would he get mad if you came late to a date or would he just shrug his shoulders and take your hand? Was he the type to hold hands or did he dislike public displays of affection?

Kento grinned. Yeah, right. He’d probably have to stop Fuma from kissing him in the middle of a concert or something.

Running down a finger along the bed, Kento closed his eyes. He wondered what it would feel like, kissing Fuma.

He felt a pang in his chest and knew that it was already too late for not falling.

***

In the end, it took over a week before they saw each other again at practice. He hadn’t really managed to come to terms with the whole suddenly-having-the-hots-for-your-group-mate thing, but, generally speaking, liking Fuma wasn’t anything new. Maybe it was because they’d been together from the start, or maybe because they got paired up together for things a lot, or any other outside influence, really. But he’d always gotten along with the younger boy and counted him as an important friend.

It had only really occured to him that that simple feeling had changed somewhere along the line just like his perception of Fuma had while he had been more or less locked up in his room during the last few days.

Saying he was worried was an understatement. But watching Fuma trying to nail the spin in the middle of their new choreography, he thought that things were pretty okay. As long as the other boy refrained from making sex faces and running around half-naked, nothing much changed in his perception of his friend. In the end it wasn’t like he could really rationalize his way out of this anyway (he’d tried). Making lists with pros and cons or trying to talk himself out of it was just impossile. That much became clear when he first entered the agency to see Fuma waiting for him, arms crossed and glaring and a tiny voice inside his head whispered, w _ould he get mad if you came late to a date or would he just shrug his shoulders and take your hand?_

They were okay. Or they would be, Kento thought with a sigh as Fuma caught his gaze and turned his head away with an impressive pout. They would be, once Fuma stopped sulking. If only he hadn’t turned his phone silent, then the alarm would have reminded him. He got up and trotted over, tugging on Fuma’s shirt sleeve as soon as he was in reach.

“I’m really sorry I forgot about meeting up with you on Wednesday. There was just so much – _stuff_ – going on and it just... slipped my mind. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

At least this time, Fuma turned to him completely, still pouting and not looking particularly impressed with Kento’s apology, but it was a start. A hopeful smile tugged at the corner of his lips before Fuma finally asked, “What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“Um,” Kento replied intellegently. Trust Fuma of all people to pick up on the one thing he didn’t want to get into specifically. The boy would forget to put on his pants in the morning if someone in the house didn’t stop him from going out like that, but he would find the fatal flaw in every lie (or half-truth, as it was) without even trying – or noticing.

“We can go today, if you want to? I’ll pay for dinner, to make it up to you.”

Fuma crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got exams starting tomorrow.”

Kento mentally smacked himself upside the head. Of course, they had meant to go to the bookstore together. And while Kento dropped by rather frequently, Fuma usually only ever went in out of his own accord when he needed learning supplies.He’d probably even asked Kento along because he’d wanted some advice. Smooth. First possible date: complete failure.

“...we could go afterwards? I really am sorry.”

“Mmh.” Fuma turned back to observe the choreorgapher coming back before finally, nodding. “You pay. For _everything_.”

“We haven’t even decided on what to do yet!”

Fuma shrugged and send a quick grin over his shoulder before he got back into position. “Punishment.”

Kento groaned, but allowed himself to be manhandled into the correct position not five minutes later. Things would only get more complicated from here onwards, he reminded himself and tried not to smile when Fuma corrected his position again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kento's brilliant plan for their next outing might not have been foolproof.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

Kento blinked, slowly turning his head to find a girl leaning onto the bar next to him, cocktail in hand and mustering him curiously.

“What?”

The girl giggled upon seeing his confused face and leaned in, pushing his glass aside to put her own down. “The couple you’re glaring at, is she your girlfriend?”

Kento unwillingly followed her nod to find his eyes settling on the dancing couple again. “No, I don’t know her.” Fuma didn’t either, but apparently that didn’t stop him from winding his arms around her waist and letting her whisper something in his ear that made him laugh. Kento clenched his fists. This had been a spectacularly bad idea.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

He just shook his head, startled when an arm looped through his and the girl was suddenly even closer. “Fantastic, then you can keep me company. Drinking on your own is boring and my friend ditched me for some guy.”

“I know just what that feels like,” Kento murmured, sneaking another glance in Fuma and the girl’s direction. This had been such a good plan! Going out together under the pretence that he’d heard of this club where Juniors could get in without having to worry about cameras (or being old enough), he’d banked on them huddling down together in the VIP section to talk. Maybe drink a little bit and huddle closer together, or maybe they would end up on the dance floor together, just for laughs at first and then the music would change to something slow and Kento would lean in and Fuma would be surprised at first, but then go along and after the song ended they would-

“You’re legal, right?” The girl asked and flagged down the bartender to order something that had ‘ice tea’ at the end of it. Kento made to protest, but the bartender had already set to work and she clapped his shoulder in encouragement. “Neat. So if our friends hadn’t left us, we wouldn’t have met, huh? How’s that for fate?”

It didn’t have any relation to it, in Kento’s opinion, but a big glass of what looked a little bit like brown lemonade was placed in front of him that moment and he frowned at that instead. He’d had a Virgin Mary before that (and in the back of his head he could still hear Fuma snort at his choice – never mind that he’d only had a non-alcoholic beer himself), so not all the cocktails had alcohol, but this one…

“I’m not actually-”

“Wow, your not-girlfriend is pretty hands-on, huh?”

Kento spun around. At first he couldn’t see them, but then he caught sight of the back of Fuma’s shirt (the silver skull on pure white was kind of easy to spot). It was pressed against one of the metal constructions that were placed throughout the hall. And the one doing the pressing was the girl, her hands somewhere Kento couldn’t see, but her grinding movements painfully obvious even from a distance.

He gasped at the sharp sting he felt in his chest and quickly averted his eyes.

Next to him, the girl was grinning and raising her glass. “To hell with it,” Kento muttered and plastered a smile on his face as he toasted her. What was the use of always following the rules and guidelines if it meant he’d get his heart broken anyway? And if this had ice tea, it couldn’t be that strong. He took a first sip from the straw and winced at the way the drink burned down his throat. The girl was laughing at him which only edged him on to take the next swig, to find the taste marginally improving. This whole alcohol thing wasn’t that bad, then.

 

 

He was almost stumbling over his own feet by the time he managed his way back out of the bathroom. Alcohol was _evil_ and he did not want to have any more of that stuff, he decided and tried to balance by stretching out his arms a little; smacking people left and right while making his way across the dance floor. Not his fault everyone insisted on getting in his way.

He narrowed his eyes to get a better look at all the dancing couples around him when he finally spotted Fuma again. His mouth dropped open. That was a _different_ girl than the one from before! And Fuma had his hands clasped behind her neck, easily swaying to the song and grinning at the girl. It was a slow song, even. Kento bit his lip and strut forward, trying his best to ignore the way his eyes were prickling. He just wanted…

“I want to go home,” he said loudly as he grabbed onto Fuma’s shirt, not caring if it made him look childish. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he could stay upright if he let go right now. The bass was growing louder around them again and for one terrible second he was sure that Fuma hadn’t even noticed him.

But then a hand reached out to clasp his shoulder and he found his friend looking at him with worry in his eyes. “Kento? What happened?”

Fuma was concentrating only on him, his second hand coming up to brush the bangs out of Kento’s eyes to get a better look at him and Kento took a deep unsteady breath. And another. Then a pathetic little sniffle escaped him and he decided to hell with it, the night couldn’t get any worse and let himself fall forward.

“Woah!”

Kento grinned a little into Fuma’s shirt. He’d been caught; strong hands had quickly shot out to grab and pull him close to make sure he wouldn’t fall. Adjusting his position a little, he placed his head on Fuma’s shoulder and with some difficulty, managed to wrap his arms around the younger boy.

“Let’s go home, please,” he mumbled half into Fuma’s neck and this close, could hear Fuma take a deep breath before he replied.

“Sure.”

He squeezed Fuma a little harder and, catching the eye of Fuma’s confused looking dance partner, smirked at her. Victory.

He resolutely refused to let go of his friend on their way out (successfully making it impossible for the girl to slip Fuma her number or even get close again), though he didn’t really seem to need to. Fuma kept one steady arm around his shoulders at all times, the other occasionally reaching out to steady the older boy when he stumbled again.

“Did someone drug you?” he asked as they sat down in their train home and Kento’s head immediately lolled back onto his shoulder.

“Yes.”

Fuma snorted and pulled him back into his seat a little further to make sure he wouldn’t fall out at the next stop. “Now I know why you don’t want to drink usually.”

“I’ve _never_ been drunk before,” Kento proclaimed indignantly. “I don’t drink because it’s against the rules, breaking the law and gets you into trum-trob- _trouble_.”

“Right,” Fuma sighed and patted his head absently. “I’ll remind you of that next time.”

“I never want to go clubbing again. You’ll just up and leave me for some half-naked girl and I’ll get roped into drinking again. It’s no fun.”

Fuma didn’t reply to that and Kento sighed. He was dimly aware that talking about anything important right now would probably end disastrously.

“We can do something else instead. Just the two of us,” he offered, hopefully looking up at his friend. Their faces were so close right now, he found Fuma’s sharp eyes only centimetres from his and it made his heart skip a beat, his breathing becoming a little shallow. He really hoped he wasn’t being as obvious as he felt. Despite everything, he hadn’t given up the quiet hope that somehow, this could work out and he didn’t want it to be ruined before anything had even started just because he wasn’t quite himself right now. He couldn’t for the life of him place the look on Fuma’s face, just silently looking at him while the younger boy was thoughtfully watching him.

He was kept waiting for Fuma’s answer however. Not much was said at all until they reached his front door, fumbling with his keys with Fuma standing behind him. He was beginning to feel a little guilty for making Fuma come all the way out here when he lived in pretty much the opposite direction.

“Let me,” Fuma quietly said and took the keys out of his trembling hands, easily opening the door and gently pushing Kento inside and closing the door again after them. When Kento opened his mouth to ask why Fuma was also coming inside, a hand closed over it.

“Shhh. I do _not_ want to explain to your family why I’m bringing you home drunk. And I don’t want them catching you stumbling around the house, so get out of your shoes already.”

Turned out that getting out of your shoes and up a flight of stairs was much more difficult when your coordination was disturbed, even with two helping hands around the whole time. Without them, he probably would have landed on his ass or face a good few times before he finally collapsed on his bed. Happy with his achievements, he rolled himself into his blankets and grinned up at Fuma stupidly.

“Got you into my bedroom~” he sing-songed playfully. Fuma actually laughed at that and Kento’s smile widened. “Want to sleep over here?”

“Better not,” Fuma said and Kento’s face fell. Fuma seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts and bent down to properly tuck the covers over his friend. “Wait a sec, I’ll just go and get something.”

Kento watched the door, feeling disappointment wash over him. This was silly. Of course Fuma wouldn’t want to spend the night. He’d already had to drag his drunk friend home, waking up with said friend hung over and cranky the next morning wouldn’t exactly be high on his to-do list. His eyes felt unnaturally heavy and when it didn’t seem like Fuma was going to come back, he closed them with a sad sigh. Of course this would never work out. Damn his heart for not just giving up on that silly hope.

 

  
  


He immediately felt dizzy when he woke up. It was dark and it took him much too long to remember where he was. Intending to take a look at his alarm clock, he reached out, knocking something heavy on his nightstand over that wasn’t supposed to be there. He frowned, realizing by feeling around that it was a small water bottle. As his eyes adjusted a little, he could also make out a box of Tylenol lying next to it. Huh. Quickly checking the time – 4.37 a.m. – he decided to take one as precaution. He didn’t have a headache or anything yet, but if those things were already there…

As he uncapped the bottle and carefully got up to take a gulp, his eyes fell on a big lump right next to him. A big human shaped lump that was breathing in and out deeply, apparently asleep. Absently, he put the bottle back on his nightstand to lean forward and get a better look.

“Fuma,” he breathed in surprise, eyes widening. His friend was lying on his bed, still in his street clothes, curled in on himself and mildly shivering every now and then.

Kento grabbed the blankets and gently placed them so they would cover Fuma as well. He blamed the rest-alcohol in his system for carefully edging closer until there was no more space left between them. Had he been sober, he never would have had the courage to do this. But then, he could always blame it on sleeping habits in the morning. He pressed his nose against Fuma’s chest, inhaling the scent of the club they’d been to (smoke and alcohol and a woman’s perfume). Fuma jerked a little and Kento froze, terrified that his friend was waking up _now_ – but after a few moments an arm slung itself over his waist and Fuma exhaled deeply again. Kento didn’t think he could fall asleep again with the way his heart was beating so fast, but as soon as he closed his eyes, he was dead to the world.

 

  
  


When he woke up the next day it was already past noon and it was only because his mother had briskly walked in and yanked open the blinds, telling him that there were limits to how much he could get away with.

Kento groaned and tried to bury his head under a pillow, blinking in surprise when he realized that he was alone in his bed. When he sat up – hand shielding his eyes from the much-too bright sunlight – to look around, his mother was the only other person in his room. She shook her head, smiling down at him fondly.

“Fuma-kun left early. I think he had somewhere to be, but he did ask me not to wake you too early since you had a rough night?”

Kento just stared at her, unable to cope with all that information.

She snickered, obviously amused by her hung-over son. “Right. I’ll leave you to it, then. But if you’re not out of bed in half an hour, I’m coming back with a bucket full of ice cold water,” she said and went back downstairs.

Letting himself fall back onto the mattress and moaning when his head protested the quick movement, he closed his eyes once more. At least he didn’t just fantasize about Fuma sleeping alongside him, he thought drily. That would have been a new low. But waking up alone even after Fuma had stayed over (to look after him?) was a forceful reminder that it would always be like this. They were friends, nothing more. Fuma would never see him as anything else.

Ignoring the way his eyes started to sting, he covered them with his arm. They were friends. That wouldn’t change. At least, that meant that Fuma wouldn’t ever leave his side. That was good, right?

His arm didn’t stop the tears from running down his cheeks. How had this mess begun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/73669.html)

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/72969.html)


End file.
